


What Remains Is Hope

by inspirante



Series: Of the Nine Hostages [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Bad Parenting, Coming Out, Prequel, Trans Male Character, Trans Male Morality | Patton Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 10:56:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21373012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inspirante/pseuds/inspirante
Summary: “Make up your mind that no matter what comes your way, no matter how difficult, no matter how unfair, you will do more than simply survive. You will thrive in spite of it.”Or Patton's Story as a Young Teen.
Relationships: None
Series: Of the Nine Hostages [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540825
Comments: 9
Kudos: 218





	What Remains Is Hope

_ Make up your mind that. _

Life sucks, especially when you are thrust into a situation you have very little control over.

The blue on my walls mock me as I pace around the room wondering what the right move is to make. On one hand, I wouldn’t be constantly scared of each move I make and there will be no more lies built into our relationship. On the other hand, I could lose everything. Although it is my decision to open up to those closest to me they are the ones who will decide if I stay or go. 

What time is it again? 6:25? Crap. 

I’m terrified. I am completely and totally frozen. I have five minutes to decide. A mountain of worries threatens to bury me alive and suddenly it seems more preferable at this moment to be buried than heading downstairs. Everything is blurry, like I’m stuck in the middle of a whirlpool but instead of water it is my toxic thoughts. I’m burning and freezing at the same time, and I don’t know how to make it stop. My skin is tingling. These violent sparks cause my spine to shiver and shortens my breath. I know they are sitting below me, waiting for me to come down. 

It’s funny, isn't it? How one word could destroy me? 

Most kids my age are worrying about that next big exam coming up, or getting asked to the dance by their crush, or how they’ll balance school and sports at the same time. I used to worry about those things too. It was a simpler time back then. I would laugh right now if I was not internally screaming. The only thing on my mind now is a question: to tell or not to tell. I have the power to change my fate, but the answer I receive might ruin me.

"Honey? Come down for dinner!"

This is a bad idea.

_ No matter what comes your way. _

These steps seem longer than I remember. As a kid I climbed up and down these stairs with the grace of a gazelle, and now in my teenage years my feet are made of stone. Every inch of my skin crawls with the desire to hide away from the world and take the easy road. It would be so painless to turn around, burrow in my duvet, and never show my face to humanity again. But I know this is what I should do. Correction. This is what I need to do.

Maybe I could play sick? It wouldn't be the first time I had done that. Dad would make me his famous chicken noodle soup and Mom would brush my hair out of my face and stay in the room just in case I needed something. It would be like when I was seven with the chickenpox and Grandma had to physically drag Mom away from my side. I wish it could be like that again. But I can't do that to them. They deserve the truth. They deserve to know the real me.

I want them to love me as much as they did the day I was young; when Dad would throw me into the air because my squeal made him smile; when Mom would swaddle me in blankets just to see the innocence of youth fall asleep in her arms; when they would take me on walks just to have an excuse to spend time with each other and see my face light up when a butterfly landed on my nose. I want them to love me as much as they did before I went to high school and distanced myself from them to hide the truth.

They deserve a better kid.

_ No matter how difficult. _

The kitchen light is blinding, as well as their smiles. I return a grimace: a poor excuse for a smile. My stomach drops into my shoes and dread fills my lungs. My wrists turn to ivy and my tongue to sand. I can feel my cheeks painted red, as shame and guilt ride my heart. Please, if anyone is listening, let this not change anything. 

I shuffle to my seat and let the aroma of home fill my nostrils. Mom has made my favourite supper tonight: potatoes, gravy, and chicken. I close my eyes and take in this smell again and again, hoping I could freeze us all in this moment of time. This makes saying this so much harder. I know that’s not fair to anyone though. 

Dad starts the conversation, telling us about his day at work. Someone was laid off and his boss is making cuts to everyone’s pay. It’s the same news we hear every night, but somehow we manage to nod along to his story with interest. Mom goes next, feeding us the gossip of the cul de sac. Our neighbor is getting married next month. we should get them a gift. There’s a funeral for the little old lady down the block so we should pay our respects to the family.

As dinner proceeds I feel more relieved as we are nearing the end of our designated “family time”. Maybe this can wait another day, or I can ignore the truth and let us live our lives as they are now. 

“Anything you want to talk about, Roo?”

Dang. Okay. I can do this. I’ve been practicing this speech for weeks. I know all of my cues and how to tell them what I am. Who I am.

This is it. It's now or never.

_ No matter how unfair. _

“Mom. Dad. I have something to tell you.”

This catches their attention. Forks are put down and hands are folded seamlessly, like they’ve been waiting for me to bring this up my whole life. I take a few breaths to get my thoughts in order. I look into their eyes and find concern for their only child. They do truly love me and seeing this affirmation gives me a boost in confidence. 

“So. . .” I pause.

“Roo, your mother and I have places to be this evening. So if you have something to tell us, spit it out.”

Wait, what? Was I misreading the situation?

I re-evaluate their faces, searching for the concern I thought I saw but it’s not there. It’s impatience. Do they really see me as such a burden? Someone who takes up nothing more in their lives than time?

Okay. I’m not going to mess this up. I’ve practiced this. I’m going to ease them into the news like a newborn enters this world. Here goes everything.

“We really must be going, doll”

Flustered, I open my mouth. “I'm not a girl.”

The colour drains from their face. That is not what I meant to say.

_ You will do more than simply survive. _

Silence. Absolute and deadly. At a young age we have been taught that silence is the absence of sound. I know now that it is the absence of life. Death himself has taken up residence at this table. My cheeks feel wet and it takes me a moment to recognize the source. I’m looking for the answer I know I won’t receive, because I already have its brother.

All I can feel is their anger and disbelief. The accusations start that I’m not what I claim to be. All of the hours I spent planning of what I could say to make them understand fly out of my head and I can’t say anything. I don’t know if there is anything I can do that will rectify this.

This can’t be happening. This is one of those hundreds of nightmares I’ve had before this day. I’m having a bad dream and I’ll wake up to Dad frying eggs in the kitchen and another day of school. I’m still asleep in my bed and I’ll find the covers to be soaked in sweat. They are not saying what I think they are saying.

“Get out! Don’t come back until you come to your senses and be the girl we have raised.”

I have my answer. With my heart crushed in their palms, I take a breath and walk away.

_ You will thrive in spite of it. _

The rocks of pavement get in the groove of my shoe and I find it necessary to stop. Looking up for a sign that I did the right thing, I see a bird fly overhead. The strength of its wings against the wind and rain make me smile because I know I showed strength today too.

I know I will not be allowed to step foot in that house again because I refuse to go back to a life of lies. A part of me is. . . grateful? It’s weird. We are told almost every day of our lives that our family is everything and we should not disrespect our elders, but what if blood is not what binds us to people? Maybe we are bound to the people we choose to love, and those who love us unconditionally. Perhaps in a universe where people are stars, our blood may be the same hydrogen and helium atoms our parents were created from, but the constellations we make with the people who love us unconditionally show our true family.

In three years, thirty years, and maybe even three hundred years I´ll be still searching to fill this hole inside my heart; to stuff it full with anything and everything I can find in hopes of ending this pain. I might be consumed by those who wish I don't exist, and maybe I will be the one to end it. All I know is that today is not the day my life ends.

I may not have a blood family. But what remains is hope. Hope for the life I’ll continue to live in truth. Hope for finding unconditional love and strength. Hope for a world to learn to be forgiving.

I won’t hide who I am anymore and the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders, which lessens the pain of being rejected.

I guess it’s time to move on, because it is the truth that gives me strength.


End file.
